As a street musician, there is no getting away from the elephant in the room: we are vulnerable.

We are sticking our heads above the cultural parapet, and we will inevitably annoy someone. And sometimes this has serious consequences: a busker was attacked with bleach outside Corpus Christi College, Cambridge. Well-known guitarist and street musician Marvin Naylor was assaulted in Winchester. Nice, middle class towns, and good musicians.

I have, in fairness, felt safe most of the time I have busked. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t. But the feeling of vulnerability has never entirely gone away. Where you are most vulnerable is when there are many people around. More people, more chance there will be someone with dark motives. However, this is also where you are the safest; if a nutter goes for you there will (hopefully) be people to help you.

This was thrown harshly into relief one memorable time when I was busking in my usual spot in Ilkley railway station. A man started applauding me. It wasn’t welcome, it was embarrassing; he was clapping and shouting loudly and causing a nuisance which I felt part of. He then sat next to me and proceeded to talk at me for some minutes. Had he not intimated he was waiting for a train I would have packed up straight away, but I thought, ‘He’ll be on his train soon enough, and then I can carry on.’

More minutes passed and the conversation (well, monologue) started to take a dark turn. He told me about people he had ‘done things to’ because they had crossed him. He seemed to take a pleasure in talking about violence. His breath stank of alcohol. He then started asking me to meet up for a drink. At this point a kind man walked over and asked if I would like him to fetch a policeman. I silently mimed: yes please. I surreptitiously sent a text to my boyfriend, saying ‘come quick’. I started to pack away my equipment: to hell with waiting for this guy to leave, I was going to leave first. I replied to the drunk (who was pressing me for an answer) by saying I didn’t think my boyfriend would like it if I went for a drink with him. He looked at me with anger in his eyes. I redoubled my efforts at packing my things. Fortunately the guy saw his quest was futile and left to catch his train. I ran into the nice man who helped me and a kind police officer outside the station. I thanked them both and explained that he had gone. The policeman waited with me until my boyfriend came (he was three miles away), and that was that.

It was a happy ending, but it taught me two things: trust your instincts (I should have got out of there way before when I did) and trouble can happen anywhere.

There are precautions street musicians can take of course; don’t play when there are a lot of drunks around, or if you do, be prepared for trouble. (Accordion and guitar are good instruments if you need to hot foot it!) Play where there are always people around, so if the worst happens someone can call the authorities.

But ultimately, you are vulnerable, because of the nature of what you do. That feeling will never, ever go away.